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It came in unexpected bursts.
One moment he’d be fine, chatting away, ignoring the constant throbbing pain in his throat where the slit was, and the next his voice would stutter. Shake. Quit altogether. He’d snap his mouth shut like he’d meant to stop mid-word, but internally he’d be panicking.
Few things scared him, and losing his voice was one of them.
Hesitantly, moments later, he would try to speak again. Sometimes he could. Most times he couldn’t. The pain in his throat always increased when it happened, and he sometimes thought maybe that was why it happened. When the pain lessened again, he could talk again. When it flared, he couldn’t.
But sometimes it didn’t hurt.
Sometimes it just went numb, and he hated to admit it but that scared him far more than the pain did.
The numbness came rarely, though, and for that he was thankful.
He was speaking with Dark, one fine day, ranting away about someone Dark had had him looking into while trying to avoid mentioning that the guy looked an awful lot like someone from Before who had fucked a lot of things up for him, and for everyone else who had been there by default. He was in the middle of comparing the man to something totally disgusting that was making Dark crinkle his nose in distaste. And suddenly his voice just… Quit. Mid-sentence. Mid-word.
He could not hide the fact that it hadn’t been intentional from Dark–not after being with him for so long. Dark knew his name, for Christ’s sake, and there was no way he wasn’t perceptive enough to realize Anti hadn’t been anywhere near finished with his rant.
He prayed to a God he didn’t believe in that when he opened his mouth again he could talk. Prayed as hard as he fucking could. Maybe he could make it look like an isolated incident, a disruption of his voice on behalf of his powers. That had happened before.
And so had the pain and trouble speaking. It was just that Dark had never really been paying a whole lot of attention when it happened before, so he probably thought Anti was actually done with whatever ramble had been spilling from his mouth before the pain increased.
He opened his mouth after a second, brows furrowed, and nothing came out.
His heart thudded in his chest and fear sucker-punched him in the guts.
“Anti?” Queried Dark, eyebrow raised, “Are you alright?”
Anti swallowed and did his best not to flinch at the sensation. He nodded (you know, like a liar) and made a vague motion to his throat as if to say, Just a complication on my throat’s part.
Dark didn’t look like he believed him, but his response was nevertheless, “Alright, if you insist.”
Anti promptly signed, ‘I INSIST.’
Dark raised his hands in a half-hearted surrender and remained beside him, presumably waiting for him to regain his voice and continue his rant. Anti appreciated it, and the lack of pursuit as to why his throat was giving him issues. He was almost glad he’d admitted it.
He waited several moments, took a rather painful breath, and tried again to speak.
What came out of his mouth was a cracked, stuttering sound like a speaker that had been set at far too high a volume. The noise persisted for one second, two, and then pitched up without warning, then back down. It hurt and he couldn’t help visibly wincing as he snapped his mouth shut once more.
That had never happened before, and it scared him.
“Anti?” Dark asked, hand hesitating an inch away from his shoulder.
Slowly, the glitch lifted a hand to press against his bandaged throat, swallowing and wincing at the feeling. His eyes squinted a bit in response to the pain and discomfort, and all at once he did not want to be in this room anymore. He did not want to be around people.
Dark’s hand landed on his shoulder for all of half a second before he let himself jerk back and glitch away in a distressed shower of sparks.
Dark did not come seeking him for nearly an hour, presumably in order to give him some time to calm down.
Under normal circumstances, Anti was tempted to believe that would have been more than enough, but as it was it wasn’t anywhere remotely close. His throat was still giving him shit and part of him was getting worried. What if this was it? What if he never spoke again all because this stupid throat injury finally decided his vocal cords were just fucking done for?
He was scared.
He hated it.
He didn’t want to be around anyone at all.
But Dark came looking for him regardless, and once the man stepped into their room and closed the door, Anti simply didn’t have the energy to teleport away. If he was mute now, there was no point in hiding it, was there? Dark would find out eventually.
“Anti?” Dark queried, slowly approaching the bed, where Anti was currently curled.
When Anti didn’t reply, he carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out with one hand to card his fingers through Anti’s messy fringe. Anti just stared up at him, hugging his knees and generally looking quite miserable.
“Have I done something to upset you?” Dark asked carefully.
Anti was still getting used to their relationship having a tender side. It always caught him off guard when emotions were suddenly involved aside from his affection for Dark.
He shook his head “no”, regardless.
“Well there’s clearly something wrong,” Said Dark, quirking a brow, “Is there any possibility of you telling me what it is?” He paused, frowning and furrowing his brows a bit, “You seem… Scared. I don’t like that.”
Something in Anti’s chest squeezed at that admission.
He bit the inside of his cheek and slowly unwound his arms from his legs, pushing himself into a sitting position but not scooting away from Dark. Dark seemed to take this as a good sign, posture relaxing a bit as he let his hand rest on Anti’s thigh instead of his head.
‘THROAT HURTS,’ He signed, slowly so that Dark could follow. Dark wasn’t a particularly quick hand-reader. ‘CAN’T TALK.’
“How long has it been hurting?” Concern furrowed Dark’s brow again.
‘ALWAYS.’ Anti signed, knowing the answer was unhelpful, ‘BAD RIGHT NOW.’
“… It’s not usually bad,” Dark said slowly, “But it hurts all the time?”
Anti supposed some clarification was needed considering there was no way to indicate that those were separate sentences, so he nodded.
“Does this happen often?”
He shook his head no.
“Does it usually last this long?”
He shook his head no again, and tried to ignore that it was somewhat frantic.
Still appearing quite concerned, Dark frowned as if he was considering something. Anti hated how hard Dark was to read. Nothing was more frustrating or more nerve-wracking than not being able to tell what was going on in his boyfriend’s head. It didn’t bother him to begin with.
Now it did.
Dark could be hiding anything at all behind that concerned face and Anti hated knowing he’d never know for sure what it was.
Finally, Dark squeezed his thigh, leaned over to plant a kiss on his forehead, and gave him one of his rare smiles that made Anti feel all warm and squishy on the inside. It was a such a soft, gentle expression on Dark’s face, soothing all those hardened features into something that overall looked more like Mark, although still worlds more dangerous. It made Anti want to return the softness somehow, and against all odds his nature didn’t rebel against that feeling. It just let the softness happen.
But what Anti couldn’t help wondering was why on Earth was Dark smiling?
“I’m going to make you some tea,” Dark said, giving him another quick kiss on the temple, “And then I’m going to check on your wound to see if there’s anything I can do to make it hurt less, if you’re alright with that.”
Anti blinked. ‘WHAT?’ He signed, thoroughly confused.
The idea of anyone taking care of him was absolutely crazy, which was… Kind of saying something, considering the sort of things he did on a regular basis and the sorts of people he tended to hang around… But maybe that was why he saw it as being so crazy. He didn’t think he should be taken care of.
He was dramatic, he was violent, he was… Not at all the person he was Before.
No.
He deserved to be taken care of, and that wasn’t just him being biased. Adrian was a good man. A little wild at times, with too sharp a tongue, but a good man nonetheless. He’d been loving, supportive, and he’d done entirely too much for other people without thinking about himself or his own health.
Anti, though? Anti was different. Anti wasn’t Adrian anymore.
Adrian was dead, and he had been for a long, long time.
He blinked away the thoughts as quickly as he could. He needed to focus. If he wanted an answer he had to pay attention.
“You’re my partner, aren’t you?” Dark asked, lifting a brow.
Anti nodded immediately, something in his chest lighting up at realizing Dark had finally put a term to what they were. Anti had been calling him his boyfriend for months but it had always been sort of implied on Dark’s end. He’d called him his partner!
“Well, then, I don’t see why you’re confused about me taking care of you.” Dark said calmly, “You’re my partner. That means you being happy and healthy is important to me.”
He gave him one more kiss to the temple, squeezed his thigh again, and stood.
Anti found his lips stretching into a grin.
He hopped to his feet as well, grabbed Dark by the shoulders, and kissed him as hard as he could without rumpling his suit.
He felt Dark’s lips lift on one side, and he wanted to melt.
And then they parted and Dark returned a few minutes later with a steaming cup of tea.
Anti was so excited he was buzzing, and for once that wasn’t going to spell disaster for anyone.